


my definition of the holy (changes with each loss)

by wollfgang



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt, F/M, Feelings, Mutual Pining, Pining, Post-Season/Series 04, Prayer, Season/Series 04 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-02-28 16:04:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18759751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wollfgang/pseuds/wollfgang
Summary: post season 4So she prays. Awkwardly, at first. Sending thoughts and whispers through the void with holy words that feel clunky in her mouth. But gradually it gets easier. Ella hesitantly offers some guidance, swiftly amending it to past tense. Regardless, Chloe appreciates the gesture.She’s almost constantly thinking about him, talking to him.Dear Lucifer...





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well i cried  
> consider this some form of catharsis
> 
> POST SEASON FOUR
> 
> Translation in Russian available: [моё понимание святого (меняется с каждой потерей)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20025982/chapters/47419576) by Damn_Muse

She misses him.

She misses him with an ache behind her ribs, ever present, sometimes dull, other times sharp. With her month in Europe she’d had so much to process, to distract her, that it hadn’t been.... Well, it hadn’t been like this. Like she’d been gutted.

She keeps expecting to look up and catch sight of him, to find him suddenly at her desk like no time had passed at all. But he doesn't.

Dan’s angry at first, he’s always quick to anger, but he puts it aside when he sees how upset she is. She chokes out an explanation, skirting around the truth as skillfully as the devil.

Lucifer was called back to his responsibilities. It hadn’t been a willing return.

Still, Ella and Dan tiptoe around her for a while. She has a breakdown and goes to see Linda. She has a breakdown and gets drunk with Maze. She pulls herself together as much as she can and tries to take it day by day, but it’s hard. It’s hard knowing that the person she loves is in Hell, suffering, reigning over awful creatures to keep them in check.

Days turn into weeks turn into months. 

.

Trixie starts sprouting like a weed till she grows past Chloe’s shoulder. Charlie packs on baby fat, his cheeks perfect for squishing and his uncle isn’t here to see it. Lucifer isn’t here and it's not fair.

It sounds childish and petulant when she thinks it, but it's true. It's not _fair_. It's difficult not to feel bitter, but Chloe does her best to move past it.

“Have you tried praying to him?” Amenadiel asks, calm and settled. Fatherhood is a good look on him, despite everything. “To Lucifer?” he adds. As if there needed clarification.

She presses her lips together in an effort not to cry. “What would I even say?” She shakes her head. “It would just be tormenting him, wouldn’t it? While he’s stuck there.”

Amenadiel sighs. “Even so. Think about it. He’d probably like to hear from you.”

Lucifer isn’t here and he _should_ be.

.

So she prays. Awkwardly, at first. Sending thoughts and whispers through the void with holy words that feel clunky in her mouth. But gradually it gets easier. Ella hesitantly offers some guidance, swiftly amending it to past tense. Regardless, Chloe appreciates the gesture.

She’s almost constantly thinking about him, talking to him, even though she has no way of knowing if he’s listening, if they’re reaching him. _Dear Lucifer..._

She hopes they are.

It would be too much to bear to think that they aren’t.

.

Charlie starts to crawl, tiny feet kicking while his parents look on with pride. Chloe doesn’t know if one can transmit images in prayers or if it’s only an audible thing. She doesn’t want to ask, so that way she can hold the image in her mind - Charlie in a red onesie with his dark curls escaping from his devil horned beanie hat as he wiggles about - and perfectly encapsulate it.

She imagines pushing it from her mind, through the earth’s crust, to him.

_Lucifer, your nephew takes after you._

She can almost hear his indignant reply.

.

Trixie comes to her for the first time seeking advice about boys. Chloe does her best, which clearly isn’t satisfactory by the huff and the, “I wish Lucifer were here.”

The throb in her rib cracks painfully. “Me too, baby. Me too.” Tears spill down her cheeks without her say so and her daughter crushes her in a hug. Lucifer would have given absolutely terrible counsel, but there would have been a useful grain of truth underneath it all and Trixie would have been clever enough to find it.

_Lord Morningstar Below,_ Chloe thinks later as she’s turning into bed after movies and ice-cream with a bit of a smile. _Save me from preteen crushes._

.

The case breaks her heart. They all do, in their own way. She prays for strength and she prays for patience and she prays for mercy. She prays that she’ll catch the bad guy. She prays for there to be punishment.

She prays how grateful she is to have had him in her life, how she doesn’t regret a single second of it. She prays through her grief and her joy and her longing.

She prays through the remembered agony of his final, sweet kiss, like nectar stripped from the ribs of a carcass.

She prays through the pain of his absence at her side.

She prays until his name is murmured from her lips more than any other word.

_Lucifer, Lucifer, Lucifer._

.

Sometimes another angelic sibling will visit the half human fledgling and they look at her with birdlike interest, especially when Amenadiel gets a little loose-lipped and talks about Lucifer’s Detective, his partner, his friend.

In the end, her and Lucifer were everything but what they wanted to be. The pain in Chloe’s flank burns to the point her breath cuts short.

Dark Celestial eyes study her. Chloe lifts her chin. She thinks of the great leathery wings, claw tipped. She thinks of red, ravaged skin and the shame and belief that put it there. She looks at Lucifer’s siblings and finds them lacking.

There’s no spark behind their eyes. Merely cold curiosity. They speak of Lucifer disparagingly, old insults and assumptions. She adopts Lucifer’s slicing wit, can practically hear his mocking echo in her ears. He wouldn’t give them a single quarter and so she won’t either.

No one gets to belittle her or Lucifer. Not after all that he’s sacrificed. She holds a smile until it’s nothing but teeth.

Amenadiel doesn’t invite his family and her over at the same time. Never let it be said that he didn’t eventually understand. Or, more likely, Linda understood and made the recommendation.

_Luce_ , she thinks, _Your siblings are dicks._

Still, she knows he would have loved watching her deliver some comeuppance.

She misses him.

.

One day, she just says it. Wants to hear it out loud.

“He really was the devil, you know.”

Dan nods, not meeting her eyes. “I know, Chloe. I know.” It would sound like pity from anyone else. But it’s not.

“I miss him,” she says, needing to know how it sounds, the shape of the words on her tongue.

“Yeah,” Dan sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Me too.”

Chloe waits until her throat unsticks before speaking again. “So you and Ella, huh?” It’s worth it to see his ears go pink.

_Dear Lucifer, sometimes I can’t stop thinking about you._

.

Maze is still here. She talks about Hell freely now and Chloe is sometimes brave enough to ask questions, when the sensation that something had snapped off and stabbed inwards is manageable enough for her to endure more.

She learns the climate. Darkness and heat and ever falling ash.

_Dearest Lucifer, we had rain today._

She learns about the demons and the death and the infighting. Tribe bands and coups and rebellions.

_Hey Old Scratch, the farmers market was busy today. I bought some honey. It’s not avocado flavored, though._

She learns about the punishment and the torture. The Rooms and the Loops and those that get his or his demon’s _special_ attention.

_Lucifer, oh God, I’m so close, I - I_

Although, perhaps that last one doesn’t count as a prayer. She certainly hadn’t intended for it to be. She doesn’t touch herself for a while after that, wondering if he heard, if he knew. It heats her veins until the temptation is too great.

He’d have wanted her to indulge.

.

Charlie starts to pull himself up, chunky little legs wobbling dangerously, Amenadiel always quick to catch him. She wonders how it is no one ever caught Lucifer.

The angels all watched as Lucifer was tipped over the edge and let go without compassion.

Charlie’s laugh breaks the silence and Amenadiel scoops him up and carefully lifts him into the air, grinning.

_I want to be there to catch you_ , she prays. _For so long I didn’t understand, I didn’t know, and now when I finally do..._

She trails off.

She wants to gather him up, guard his vulnerable places, press kisses to tender skin. For one glorious moment, it almost seemed like they could. Like they’d beat the odds. Yet, Lucifer still managed to slip through her fingers.

.

Chloe talks to Linda and she works with Dan and Ella and she lives with Maze.

Lucifer isn’t here and she misses him.

So she prays. She prays.

_Lucifer, I love you._

_I love you._

_I love you._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He hears her. Every word.
> 
> Listening to prayers is typically pretty low on the list of things he enjoys, somewhere just above denailing. The sort of people who pray to the devil are not the sort he cares to hear. It’s nothing more than a dull drone at the back of his mind, anyway. Easily ignorable.
> 
> Except for her. Chloe. 
> 
> Her voice slices loud and clear through his head, as if she were speaking right next to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so....there's a second chapter now

He hears her. Every word.

Listening to prayers is typically pretty low on the list of things he enjoys, somewhere just above denailing. The sort of people who pray to the devil are not the sort he cares to hear. It’s nothing more than a dull drone at the back of his mind, anyway. Easily ignorable.

Except for her. Chloe. 

Her voice slices loud and clear through his head, as if she were speaking right next to him.

_Dear Lucifer, I don’t know if I’m doing this right or if there’s even a proper way to do this, but Amenadiel wanted me to try. If you can even hear me-_

Her voice cuts out suddenly and he jolts to his feet, startling the surrounding demons. No. He can’t lose her now. Celestial senses stretch out as if he could catch at her.

_No. No, you can. You can hear me. There isn’t another option. Everyone is good here. Charlie is still as healthy as, well, as an angel, I guess. Work is good. We, uh, we miss you. I miss you. I know Hell isn’t where you want to be right now, but I hope you’re okay. As okay as you can be._

There’s a pause once more, and he thinks that must be it, that is the end, until there’s a quick rush of words.

_I love you. Amen._

The sensation of her prayer fades away, his heart pounding in his chest. His mouth is dry.

“My Lord?” questions a demon carefully. “Are you... well?”

Lucifer grins. It’s sharper than it used to be, but no less genuine. “Yes,” he says, eyes glowing. “I’m perfectly all right.”

.

It’s not every day. Sometimes it’s not even every week. The time difference between this realm and the earthly plane fluctuates and twists back on itself like a snake in death throes. Advantageous for making Loops and Rooms, but more of a hindrance when it comes to hearing Chloe with any kind of regularity. She doesn’t know it, but having something to hold on to, to look forward to - it’s a lifeline. It keeps him from becoming overly cruel, from becoming the monster Hell tries to mold him into. Sometimes... he backslides, but her voice brings him to himself.

 _Lucifer,_ she begins. _You would have loved this case. So many opportunities for innuendo. I keep pausing, waiting for you to cut in with something inappropriate, but.... Anyway, the victim was having an affair with both the husband and the wife, but their alibis are solid. I’m sure I’ll figure it out, eventually. Love you. Amen._

The demons around him all wait patiently. They have learned well his wrath. He’d massacred two legion of demons when they’d interrupted his listening a few prayers ago and the denizens of Hell have noted the lesson.

This place, _his rule_ , encourages one to become a quick study. It often means the difference between life and death.

All of Hell bows to their King.

. 

The telltale sensation of her intent prickles along his awareness, bringing with it something new. An image, a mental picture of Charlie forms in his mind. It’s as if Lucifer were there. He closes his eyes and tilts his head, as if to better listen to her, see what she sees. The child is wriggling about in a manner most undignified, nearly upsetting the hat from his head. The red... horned hat. 

The boy already nearly doubled in size, limbs thick with weight, in a manner he thinks is normal for human offspring. 

_Lucifer_. Her greeting washes over him, calm and amused. _Your nephew takes after you._

He sniffs. To compare any resemblance between him and the half human larvae was beyond the pale. He opens his eyes and brings himself back to the task at hand. 

. 

He visits Father Kinley. He allows the man his laughter, his brief burst of victory at seeing Lucifer in Hell. And then he starts his work. The Devil’s work.

There is no laughter after that. 

. 

He visits Cain. The man’s Room flatters Lucifer’s ego. Again and again, the Detective rejects him. Again and again, Cain is slaughtered by a Lucifer of his own making. 

. 

He visits Malcolm. Hell has driven the man even more out of his mind than before, more a creature of this place than a human soul. 

. 

The things he does to Dromos are _unspeakable_.

.

_Lord Morningstar Below, save me from preteen crushes._

He nearly chokes at the formal moniker, blood red wine nearly sloshing from his glass. The demon nearest him eyes him and scampers a step back. The prayer is short, almost meaningless if it had come from anyone else except for her. 

Preteen crushes? There’s a brief flash of Trixie and he puts the pieces together. Ah. Well. Relationships were tricky to navigate, especially for him. But Beatrice was a remarkable creature and far more worthy than any suitor she would deign to pay her attentions to. 

Much like her mother, in that way. 

. 

She prays to him for strength. If there is anything angelic at all left in him, he gathers it up for her. Perhaps somehow, he can impart a piece of his own to support her. If only he believes it enough. He never would have tried for anyone else, never would have bothered, except for her.

She prays for things he hardly knows how to give. For patience and mercy. Things of the Silver City. She was always better than him at such things. 

She asks for help to catch the evil men she chases; she seeks aid in punishment. The leather of his wings creaks at his back as he flexes. A Devil’s blessing. 

“You will,” he murmurs. “No wicked will escape your judgment and you will deliver them up to justice. You have my word.” 

She is not there to know his response, but it is enough for him to have said it. His word is his bond. 

He misses her.

.

.

When she prays about how grateful she is to have had him in her life, how she doesn't regret a single second, Lucifer locks himself up in his Palace and doesn't come out for days. He doesn't deserve it, doesn't deserve her grace. He doesn't cry. There's no place for such things here. But it's close. It's close. Heavens _above_ , he misses her. 

She prays through her grief and her joy and her longing and it's a mirror image, reflecting his own feelings. Being away from her is an agony. The phantom press of her lips haunts him. 

Her voice is a constant litany in his head.

 _Lucifer, Lucifer, Lucifer_. 

. 

Her prayers help him endure through the pain of her absence at his side. All of his enemies have underestimated her, taken her for weakness, but she is his strength. He sits upon a throne and wonders how she would look here, atop her own seat of power. A queen. Then he dismisses it. Chloe deserves nothing but the Silver City. 

. 

The demons here are two parts arse lickers, one part crafty, and it's just enough to keep him on his toes. But they are no Mazikeen. For it to be a betrayal, there would have to be trust.

They try to ingratiate themselves to him, press into his inner circles. They ply him with wealth and weaponry - as if he had any use for it here, as if his wings couldn't rend them to pieces, as if he couldn't rip them apart bare handed.

The smarter ones change their approach. They offer him secrets, information, favors. But they never reach the level of trust from their King that they seek. His inner circle is of a different realm, and his most trusted remains untouchable inside his head. 

. 

_Hey, Lucifer._

His attention immediately snaps inward, listening intently. 

_It's uh, it's my birthday today._

His heart aches like an axe to the chest. 

_Ella threw the party, no strippers this time._

There's a brief flash of his own naked body from her perspective, and he wonders if she'd meant to send that. 

_Everyone is here, except for you, of course. You should be here, Lucifer. You shouldn't be -_

Emotion chokes her words off but the tangle of feelings transmits. Anger and sadness and a yearning so intense it steals his breath. Then suddenly it gets pushed aside and her words continue. 

_The presents were pretty great. Not as good as a bullet necklace, but we can't expect them to do better than the devil. Even Eve stopped by, Maze seemed happy to see her. I, uh, I went to your penthouse. Hope that was all right. I needed.... The sheets still smell like you, you know? Even after all this time. And your bed is comfy. I love you, Lucifer._

Her prayer doesn't so much end as it simply drifts into sleep. He closes his eyes against his tears.

.

 _Luce_ , she says, _Your siblings are dicks._

He grins, vicious and satisfied. 

_Dear Lucifer, sometimes I can't stop thinking about you._

He misses her.

She tells him about the weather. _We had rain today._ If he closes his eyes, he can pretend the ash that drifts down from above is water. She tells him about her daily life, _the farmer’s market was busy today,_ about peach flavored honey spread on toast. He misses her with a fierceness that rests in every fiber of his being.

.

He’s grateful the next prayer catches him while he’s in his personal chambers. It wakes him up, the call of his name breathless and cracked. _Lucifer, oh, Lucifer._ Heat unfurls in his gut as her voice slips into his mind. _Fuck, come on, right there._

Oh. This... isn’t a prayer. This is, well, this is something else entirely, but perhaps the intent, focused as it is, is enough. His hand slips under his sheets. He listens, blood throbbing, movements harsh and punishing, as she reaches for pleasure with his name on her lips.

_Lucifer, oh God, I'm so close, I - I_

Not even the mention of his father is enough to detract from this, from her. He comes apart painfully quick. After he’s caught his breath and her voice has dissolved, he presses his hands to his face and groans.

.

 _I want to be there to catch you_ , she prays. _For so long I didn't understand, I didn't know, and now when I finally do..._

_Lucifer, I love you_

_I love you_

_I love you_

He loves her, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you need some resolution, you should read [drunk in love](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20273461) a future fic where everything is fine, or at least, getting there.


End file.
